


down to just one thing

by helwolves



Category: Journey into Mystery, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Existential Angst, Fluff, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mischief, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sibling Incest, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mother always said, the fastest way to a man’s heart is through an unbreakable curse of mysterious origin.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	down to just one thing

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s some Kid Loki smut I wrote to ring in the new year, a bit delayed. This is dedicated to [A.](http://programmedradly.tumblr.com/), who suggested this curse thing and who was probably thinking of something more cuddly, but I’m terrible and this is what happened. I’m sorry/you’re welcome. 
> 
> Regarding warnings: 616 Thor and Loki are gods, and as such I don’t think about this in terms of Loki being an actual child, though he is in tween form, but YMMV.

It was an old story. An emissary had brought the thing on an official visit, a gift for the little crown prince, a perfect model carved of living ice that leaped about your feet when you touched it just so. Thor hadn’t cared much for it at first, but Loki... Loki wanted. Loki felt it should be his by rights, which gave it value in Thor’s eyes, too.

Loki’s mind held just a shadow of this. A memory of a story told but not lived.

He could recall the story, but not the icy fist that once twisted his insides. Neither could he remember just what it had felt like to sleep beside his brother in a tangle of bruised, coltish limbs and mud- and jam-stained furs, but he knew it too had once been so. And he knew the little frost beast had made it stop for a time, and then, with the aid of Freyja’s magic, had brought it back.

At least for a time.

Loki’s magic was small now and it had taken not a negligible bit of effort and some unoffered help, but he’d managed to find the tiny frost beast, and to kindle the spell’s effects once more. He grinned up at the bird as he placed the toy among the other ancient treasures he planned to inconspicuously rummage through later that night.

“Mother always said, the fastest way to a man’s heart is through an unbreakable curse of mysterious origin.”

“She said no such thing,” said Ikol.

“It was _her_ enchantment, you contemptible corvid. Now be silent, you’ll ruin _everything_.”

ᛟ     ᛟ     ᛟ

“My lady—oww!—if you’d kindly allow me to— _hey_!”

“Spare me the theatrics, Loki. I’m hardly touching you.”

“No, not that, it’s the— _aahh_! Thor, if you could—”

“Sif, unhand my brother, please. I am sorry for the... surprise, but he must stay here. Tonight.”

With a sigh, Sif uncarefully let the godling drop back to where she’d discovered him moments ago, burrowed amid the furs and blankets strewn about Thor’s bed—where she’d seemed about to burrow herself, as soon as she’d finished removing her armor.

Loki scrambled back to his warm place, tucked up against Thor’s side with Thor still sprawled on his back, now sitting up on his elbows as he made the vaguest effort to defuse the situation.

Sif glared down at Loki. He grinned up at her. He tried his very best to avert his eyes from her state of half-clothedness as well.

“There is a perfectly reasonable and inarguable explanation for this,” he began.

Sif looked to Thor, her expression making clear that she was merely trying to decide which of them to start hitting first. Loki glanced up at his brother and was tempted to shield his eyes from the dazzling smile being flashed at the lady. It was a valiant attempt, and strong she was to resist it and continue glaring (though her lips did quirk at one corner).

“He speaks true. There is... a spell.” Thor looked almost petulant as he admitted this.

“Isn’t there always,” said Sif.

“It most definitely was an accident that I set it off again. It really is a rather painful spell.”

“When we’re not _touching_ ,” said Thor, falling back against the bed with a groan, a great displacement of furs and a few lazily drifting feathers.

“I—what?”

“Innovative Asgardian parenting techniques,” said Loki, side-eyeing his brother.

“Loki and I did not always get on, when we were boys.”

“You don’t say.”

ᛟ     ᛟ     ᛟ

“Loki, cease your fidgeting,” Thor growled, sounding not unlike a bear awakening early from its seasonal slumber.

“I cannot sleep like this. I sleep and then I move too far and then it _hurts_... Also, you are snoring, brother. And a visit to the baths would not do you harm, or at least much less harm than the crook of your arm’s present pungency is doing me,” Loki lied.

It was only a small lie. Yes, Thor’s scent was everywhere here in his massive bed, piled high with soft furs from many conquests past, and Thor himself taking up much of the remaining space, surrounding Loki with too-familiar sensations—his warmth, and his musk, and that sweet-sharp smell of a distant yet oncoming storm. But it was a different sort of harm being done to him.

The boy Loki’s memory was a moth-eaten tapestry at best, but he remembered _some_ things, and it was enough to make his tongue ache with want.

“Thor,” he prodded, as his brother’s soft rumbling snore resumed. A jab in the ribs made Thor grunt awake. “Thor, I have an idea.” 

Thor snorted. “But is it one that I wish to hear?”

“It will let you sleep undisturbed by my fidgeting, I’m sure of it.”

Thor reached one large hand to push the mess of dark hair from Loki’s eyes. Loki huffed.

“Very well, tell me this idea before I doze again and prolong your torment,” Thor said, and Loki could just barely make out the indulgent smirk on his brother’s face in the flickering light of the candle stubs.

“I will show you,” Loki said, even as he was wriggling out of Thor’s grip and clambering up and over to settle himself, curled and catlike, entirely atop his brother.

Thor laughed and shifted beneath him, finding a more stable position and reaching out to drag one of the lighter furs over Loki’s back. “Does this satisfy you then? May I sleep?”

Loki hid the smirk that threatened to erupt by rubbing his face against Thor’s bare and impossibly broad chest, as if it were a particularly dense pillow that needed fluffing. “Perhaps. Though another idea has just occurred to me, one which might increase my comfort further.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, very much so, I think,” Loki said with much muffling and a small grunt, as he pulled his tunic over his head and slipped out of his smallclothes, finally stretching full length atop his brother’s already unclad body with a yawn.

“Loki...” Thor rumbled, the sound practically vibrating along Loki’s skin.

“If you recall, brother,” Loki began against Thor’s collarbone. He shifted twice more until he could press his face into the heat of Thor’s neck, feeling the pulse there quicken. “If you recall, from the last time this particular curse befell us—which I _actually_ do, recall—the more we two touch, the less it hurts.”

Thor let out a rush of breath that ghosted warmly over Loki’s face. One hand came to rest, broad palmed, on the small of Loki’s back, and began to trace small circles there.

“So the more skin, you see... The more—the better it...” Then he could not resist anymore the urge to lap at the place where Thor’s neck met his shoulder, and again, and again with the addition of teeth.

The near imperceptible tingling sensation on his tongue was just as he remembered. And Thor’s thigh was massive and solid as if carved from uru between Loki’s legs, and sometime in the past few minutes Loki had become impressively, uncomfortably hard.

“Do you remember? Thor... _I_ do...” he murmured against Thor’s skin.

Thor’s grip on him tightened. The hand that had been resting among the furs became lost in the silken tangle at Loki’s nape.

“You loved me then. You loved—him.”

“Loki,” Thor rasped into Loki’s hair, his breath hot and damp, the air crackling in the way that would send wiser ones running to seek shelter. “I love you still. _You_ —”

“ _Prove_ it.”

Loki rocked his hips and felt his brother’s answering shift, felt his hand slide lower, and he gave in to the movement, one choked moan making his throat hurt as Thor crushed him closer. Loki bucked harder, shuddering, kissed Thor’s skin desperately wherever his mouth could reach until he felt Thor’s hand cupping his neck, then the angle of his jaw, then huge gentle fingertips traced the length of his nose and his wet lips.

He was almost grateful for the fingers—one, then two—that Thor pressed past his lips, cutting off the sobs he felt boiling over in his chest. He licked and sucked and squeezed his eyes shut so tight, digging his hands into flexing muscle wherever he could get a suitable grip to keep rutting against his brother’s hip.

The flood of disappointment he felt when Thor pulled his fingers away was short-lived as Thor’s hand trailed down his back, and those fingers began to rub teasingly at his hole. Loki’s body could not seem to decide whether it preferred to thrust against Thor’s thigh or press back against his mischievous fingers, and his hips jerked hard and helplessly. He felt Thor chuckling softly as he kissed Loki’s temple and his forehead and his sweat-damp hair.

Loki had never been loud when he came, but he soon choked out something about unfairness and more than a few colorful oaths as he spilled between their bodies. He lazily licked the salt from Thor’s neck until the last of his pleasure ceased forking through his narrow limbs.

He leaned up then and purred against Thor’s lips: “Acceptable.”

With an amused growl, Thor had Loki on his back in an instant. The leonine grace and speed with which his brother could move all those muscles was a thing Loki _did_ occasionally fail to remember. He bit his bottom lip and blinked up at Thor, attempting to project a questioning innocence despite the smoldering under his skin and the desire that surely sparked in his eyes.

“I would not like to risk leaving you without _sufficient_ proof, brother,” Thor murmured, pushing Loki deeper into the soft bed with his full weight. 

Loki grinned, hooking his legs around Thor’s hips and pulling him closer, humming with pleasure. Thor’s cock was hard and huge and pressing insistently against his inner thigh. He snaked a hand between them to wrap his fist around the thick tip and Thor bucked into it, burning and slick, making a sound like a frost bear in the heat of battle.

For his part, Loki struggled to rein in the pained edge to the sounds that Thor’s thrusts drew from him, worked over and sensitive and still slightly shaking as he was, but before long Thor noticed and slowed himself, pushing up on his forearms to stare fixedly at his brother’s face.

“Wait, Thor, don’t—” Loki bit off his words. His voice felt too small, echoed too young and weak in his own head. He could only imagine what Thor saw beneath him now. “Please.”

“This was—I’m hurting you. I will not...”

“No, I... Hurt me, Thor, you can—” he panted, trying and failing to pull Thor back down against him. Blinking away the dampness at the corners of his eyes.

“ _Never_.”

Thor pushed himself up even higher on his fists and away and—

—Loki cried out from the sudden surge of pain from the curse. _His_ curse.

He saw the expression that briefly twisted Thor’s features and knew he felt it, too. Thor settled heavily on his side and gathered Loki’s smaller self to him, urging him to shift until they were flush against each other, back to front, skin to skin everywhere they could touch. Loki sighed and closed his eyes, arched his back and felt Thor’s hardness still between them. He arched more, tipping his head back, curling his free arm up to yank Thor into a kiss with a hand gripped tight in his tangled golden mane.

“Thor... I want...”

Thor kissed him slowly and deeply until Loki felt himself whining, until Loki was squirming against the solid, unmoving weight of Thor’s body. Thor grinned into his panting mouth. “Now _I_ have an idea,” Thor said, “that I will show _you_ rather than speak it.” He bit at the sharpest part of Loki’s shoulder as he shifted, then Loki felt Thor’s cock pressing at the join of his legs.

Loki gasped at the touch, suddenly a bit fearful, not sure how much his current body could actually take, though he wanted, he _wanted_ —but Thor whispered soothing things in his ear. That he should calm himself, that he loved him, that he would never hurt him—and Loki knew that these were true things, just as surely as he knew he could never say the like and trust himself to be speaking truths.

When Thor finally drove his last thrust and spilled between Loki’s legs, he crushed his brother so hard against his chest, Loki thought that he might finally break—and that he welcomed it. It would be a fine end, so enveloped in the warm strength of his brother’s arms and his brother’s love.

But instead he merely slept, and did not wake, or even fidget, until daylight.

ᛟ     ᛟ     ᛟ

“So your scheme was successful then,” said the bird, disinterestedly.

“You wound me, Ikol. Your doubt, and your choice of words. _Scheme_... such implications. Besides, it was Mother’s scheme as well.”

“Save for the naughty bits.”

“Well, you know,” said Loki, smiling. “Naughty us.”

**Author's Note:**

> _In this place it seems like such a shame_   
> _Though it all looks different now_   
> _I know it’s still the same_   
> _And everywhere I look you’re all I see_   
> _Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be_   
> _Come on, tell me_   
> _You make this all go away_   
> _You make this all go away_   
> _I’m down to just one thing_   
> _And I'm starting to scare myself_
> 
> (Reblog [here](http://nowolveshere.tumblr.com/post/112185146027/down-to-just-one-thing-2183-words-by) if you so wish.)


End file.
